Vincent was now 41 years old, He had been promoted many times and and become the real leader, the loved one, the semi-god of the bank, he was now the banker. His fraud network was rolling at full steam, but slowly, very slowly, remorse were filling his soul. In the innocence of his youth, he had let traces behind him, tiny traces, but still traces. This was not all. The money, the one filling his Swiss account, where did it come from? Who were all these peoples who, in their daily misery, were victim, without knowing why, of his awful fraud. He had committed crimes and for a banker, this was unacceptable.